


Watery Graves

by Blanquette



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Gen, Ghosts, Korean Modern History, M/M, Mystery, Police, Shamanism, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-16 03:19:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12334446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blanquette/pseuds/Blanquette
Summary: When Daehyun's grandpa dies a mysterious death in a small mountain village, Daehyun ends up unearthing a dark past, with the help of local police officers Kim Himchan and Choi Junhong (who is a mystery all of his own).Contains ghosts, shamans, references to Korea's modern history, a mystery and a grumpy secretary.





	1. An Untimely Death

**Author's Note:**

> It's October! Which means everyone is in need of a ghost story, or at least I'm in need of writing one.  
> First time venturing into the supernatural ghost / mystery stuff here so bear with me.  
> This will probably not be done by Halloween though.

 

“Grandpa’s dead.”

Daehyun uneasily looked up from his computer, sprawled as he was on the threadbare couch. His mother still had the phone in one hand, but her expression wasn’t one of sadness nor shock.

“What?”

“You know. Your dad’s dad.”

Daehyun lowered his eyes, looking absently at the computer’s screen displaying the picture he had been working on. A district attorney was walking out of the courthouse, still dressed for trial, looking at a journalist who was running up the stairs towards him, microphone in hand. It was a good picture, with dynamic lines, the two subjects clad in black drawing a stark contrast against the white of the stairs, their shadows stretching at their feet. His editor would be happy. The corruption scandal in the ministry of justice had been dominating the headlines, and their paper needed good content to stand out, and ultimately stay afloat.

“Daehyun?”

“Mh?”

He looked up again, locking his eyes on his mother’s face. Each time it came as a tiny shock to rediscover the thin lines around her mouth, her eyes. She looked old. Tired. She had been tired for as long as he could remember. He focused on her face, trying to burn her features into his mind, but he knew that as soon as she would turn away, her image would dissolve in his mind.

“Grandpa’s dead. Someone… Someone will need to go take care of the cremation. And empty the house. And…”

Daehyun nodded. So grandpa had died. His mother was matter-of-fact about it, no emotions seeping into her quiet voice. Daehyun tried to remember what his grandpa had felt like. Cold, quiet, something hidden in the taut lines of his face. Nothing else was coming to mind. He had met him only once, just before starting middle school. There were bee hives sprawling on a small field set between one side of the old house and a sheer drop down a gorge carved out by the mountain river. It had been raining that day, and when they had come out of the tiny car at the foot of the mountain, the air was smelling of rotten leaves.

He wondered if he should be feeling sad, now that this grandpa was dead. There was nothing within himself, though. There rarely was anymore. Like his mother, he had already used up everything there ever was. Knowing what he should feel – sadness, grief, nostalgia maybe – and acting accordingly would have to make up for the emotions he wasn’t truly feeling.

“All right. I can go. Should I bring anything back?”

His mother chewed the inside of her cheek, as she always did when she was thinking. Daehyun had picked up that habit, too. He watched her think until she shook her head quietly.

“I don’t know. Maybe… Maybe if there are family pictures?”

Daehyun nodded, and his mother smiled, thanking him before disappearing through the door. It wasn’t her problem anymore. Daehyun would take care of everything, as he always did.

 

* * *

 

“Days off? Why do you need days off?”

At lunch time, the tiny newsroom was almost always empty. Daehyun was sitting on a creaky chair he had trailed behind him to sit in front of his editor’s desk. The man was reclining on his office chair, swinging it slightly left-to-right in a nervous gesture. He was a nervous man by nature, and overseeing a struggling local paper had done nothing to soothe him. Daehyun was looking at the clutter on his desk, the light pouring out the window behind him, the stain of coffee left on the cheap carpeting; all in all, anywhere but his editor’s face. The man looked almost offended he would dare ask for a day off. The spacey look Daehyun adorned unnerved the editor even more than his untimely request, and he found himself playing with one of the pens cluttering his desk, leaning towards the photographer.

“Daehyun. Why do you need days off now? It’s a busy month, what’s with the ministry of justice affair. We only have two photographers, Sora can’t possibly cover everything herself. We need you here.” 

“Mh? Yeah, I know, but. My grandpa’s dead. I need to go take care of it. It would just be two, three days at most.”

“Oh. Condolences.”

Daehyun just nodded, his eyes drifting away almost immediately. He didn’t seem sad or bothered, just… resigned. The editor sat back, pulling his lower lips between his fingers. He couldn’t just refuse Daehyun in a situation like this, but maybe this could be turned to the paper’s benefit. An idea started to gain traction in his mind.

“He lived alone?”

“Yes. I think he got a bit crazy towards the end. I didn’t even know him that well, but…”

The photographer was now staring at a stack of photocopies perching dangerously close to the edge of the desk. The editor leaned forward again, trying to catch his attention.

“Look, what if you turn that into a topic? I give you a full week, and you come back with a 4-pages spread. We’re still missing a good enough social issue subject for the monthly magazine.”

“A topic on my grandpa’s death?”

“Was he poor? Elderly poverty is a big thing these days. Or social isolation, you could get a good angle on that. You know. Dab into some biographical elements and then delve on the underlying social issues. What do you think?”

“I think that I’m not a writer. I take photos.”

“Then take some. Write whatever factual bits you can find. We’ll edit it when you get back, I can assign a writer here in the meantime to do some quantitative research. Come on. You get to take care of your business and I get mine taken care of.”

The photographer had a small smile, and forced his eyes to settle on his editor again. It was very like him, to find something to gain in this kind of situation. Daehyun was skeptical of the interest an assignment like this could muster amongst their dwindling readership, especially since he wasn’t a journalist. He wasn’t about to complain though, having obtained what he wanted, and even more.

“All right. I guess a week is too good to pass.”

“Since you were going to go there anyway, make an expense account just for the food, all right? And if you need to rent a car or something.”

“I don’t drive.”

“You don’t? Uh. I was sure you did.”

This bit of information seemed to plunge the editor in a state of reflection Daehyun wasn’t sure how to interrupt. He just stayed in his chair, hands crossed over his lap, waiting for a dismissal that wasn’t coming. It was exactly two minutes later that the editor seemed to notice the silent presence still sitting in front of his desk, and he finally waved a hand in his direction.

“When are you leaving?”

“I have an early train tomorrow morning. He lived near Daegu.”

“Good good. I expect updates on your progress, all right? That will be all.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Daehyun got up and bowed, and the editor watched him leave with a sigh. Daehyun was something else. The editor had never managed to really connect with the photographer, and it seemed that he wasn’t the only one. Although he was always friendly enough, Daehyun was a bit of a ghost in the redaction. There was a wall around him no one had been able to break through, and his quiet presence had the tendency to make anyone feel uncomfortable. One hell of a photographer, though.

 

* * *

 

“You’re late, officer Kim. It’s almost eleven for Heaven’s sake.”

The secretary was looking at the young man over her near-sighted glasses with an air of tired reproach. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, that officer Kim Himchan would be late.

“What did I miss? Murder? Mayhem? Mr. Shin drunkenly falling asleep in the wrong yard again?”

The secretary pursued her lips and shook her head with an annoyed little tsk, putting the paper she had been filling out on the neat pile at her right elbow.

“Junhong went out to pick him up. As he was on time. Because he always is.”

“Just wait until he finishes his probationary period.”

Sadly, this was probably true, and Ms. Hwan could only roll her eyes at the charming smile the officer sent her way. This was a small police station, for a small village, with only two police officers at any given time. If something serious were to ever happen, they would have to ask for the next town over to send help. Nothing serious ever happened, though, so they never had to do it. She also understood why officer Kim never put too much effort into a job he was pushed into. But still, she thought, irritation tugging at her, as a policeman, he should have some principles.

“I’ve known you since you were a teenager, Himchan.”

“Indeed you have, Ms. Hwan.”

“It would be nice if I could see you act like a man, from time to time.”

He smiled anew, and she felt her sternness mellow.

“I will try. It can be your Christmas present this year. I bet you’re getting real tired of ginseng tea.”

He was about to bypass her desk to join his, a few meters away in the badly lit room, when she retained him with a small gesture. 

“Himchan, it really is a testament to your observation skills that you didn’t even notice the man waiting for you.”

Officer Kim comically enlarged his eyes at that, and staged-whispered a falsely terrified ‘you can see him too?’ to Ms. Hwan, who got up from her desk with a roll of her eyes. She took him by the elbow and led him to a tiny bench by the door, where they either handcuffed neighborhood drunks until they were coherent enough to go home, or asked their few visitors to wait.

The man sited there, who had until then politely pretended to hear nothing of their conversation, immediately got up and bowed, his woolen coat folded over his arm.

“The officer will take care of you now, Mr. Jung. Sorry for the wait.”

She said this while looking pointedly at the officer, who just ignored her and bowed back to their visitor.

“I’m officer Kim. Am I right in assuming you’re here concerning Jung Kyuseok?”

Daehyun agreed, and there was a small relief at hearing the peculiar voice of his interlocutor. Not too deep but slightly husky, as if he was getting out of a cold. Easy to pick out, to remember. So he focused on it, rather than on features he wouldn’t remember. The officer led him to a cluttered desk near the back of the room, and they both sat down on opposite sides.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Daehyun knew the officer was only being polite and bowed slightly in acknowledgement, shifting on the creaky metal chair to try and get comfortable, to no avail. It was slightly cold in the station, and he huddled on himself, sticking his hands between his thighs. The officer watched him do so in silence before hesitantly soldiering on.

“The body was transferred to the nearest medical facility. They will need you to go down there, to take care of the paperwork and funeral arrangements.”

Daehyun just nodded, which did nothing to quell the officer’s growing uneasiness. The man wouldn’t look at him, seemingly focused on the clutter covering his desk, and his face betrayed no emotions. Kim licked his lips in a nervous gesture, arranging the papers on his desk to occupy his hands.

“Did you have any questions?”

“Not really… We weren’t that close.”

Daehyun then remembered with slight anguish the request of his editor, and shifted again on the chair, uneasy. He wasn’t good with people, with asking questions, and that’s mostly why he chose to put a camera between him and them. He swallowed, forced his eyes to meet the officer’s own, who was looking at him with expectation.

“Did he… How did he die? Who found him?”   

“My colleague. Mr. Jung usually came down at least once every three days for supplies, so when the store owner didn’t see him for a week he called us to go check up on him. Officer Choi Junhong found him. If you want to talk with him later, he should come in soon. For the exact circumstances of his death, you will have to check with the medical examiner at the hospital, as we have yet to receive the autopsy report.”

There was this quiet nod again, and officer Kim shifted in his chair, sparing a look at the unfinished reports in his hands. It’s probably his hate of paperwork that spurred him on.

“Do you have a car?”

“No. I came by train and then a bus from Daegu dropped me nearby. I took a cab after that.”

Himchan nodded. Theirs was indeed a hard village to reach.

“Look. I could drop you at the hospital. It’s a quiet day.”

Daehyun raised an eyebrow, as if to remark that all of their days were probably quiet ones, and Himchan could only smile.

“If it doesn’t bother you, officer.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if it did. And I could grab the autopsy report, so there’s always that.”

There was a nod again, and the man got up, going back to the bench where he had left a heavy looking backpack and what could only be a camera bag, looking back expectantly at the officer when the latter got caught under Ms. Hwan disapproving stare.

“Barely in and already out?”

“It’s for a good cause. Tell Junhong I’ll be back by late afternoon.”

She tsk-ed him again, and Himchan sent her his most disarming smile before ushering Daehyun outside, to one of the two patrol cars the station owned. The ride to the medical center was mostly silent, Himchan still managing to extort from Daehyun important details such as where he was from and what he did for a living. The man shut down after the first twenty minutes, closing his eyes and seemingly falling asleep, so the officer started humming to himself, a slow, winding melody that made its way into Daehyun’s dream.

 

He was dreaming of water. It was all around him, dark and heavy, pressing on his chest. He began to swim upwards before realizing he didn’t know where upward was. Something brushed against his hair and as panic seized him, he tried to grab whatever it was. A hand. It was a hand. He was pulled in a direction, but before he could breach the surface, something held him back, grabbing at his ankle, and another wave came over him, ripping the hand away. As his lungs were about to explode he exhaled in the water, watched the bubbles take away his breath. He stopped struggling, closed his eyes. 

When he opened them again, there was a face leaning over him. Dark eyes, a full mouth, he knew he was supposed to recognize it, but his brain wouldn’t supply the information. He felt like crying, and he did. The face was asking something, and then it disappeared, and he was only looking up at a bright sky. He knew the voice. His dad. His dad asking where his brother was.

He knew it in his guts, that something terrible was about to happen, but he couldn’t remember  what. Water. His dad shouldn’t go back in the water. He sat up, but he couldn’t see anyone in the expanse of blue stretching before him. It was perfectly still. An unfathomable feeling of loss came over him, and he opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He tried to get up, although the sand below him had become soft like snow, and when he pushed himself up, he fell through.

He fell for a long time in the dark. There was a voice, somewhere near his ear, humming a melody, and the smell of sea water drifted in the air. A weight was pressing down on his chest and Daehyun started to suffocate before ever hitting the ground.

 

“Hey, wake up, you all right?”

A rough hand was shaking him awake and he opened his eyes, stared at the officer who had one hand on him and the other on the steering wheel, eyes shifting from the road to Daehyun’s face.

“Had a nightmare? You were thrashing.”

“I’m okay.”

He wiped the sleep from his eyes, heaved a deep sigh, closed his eyes again, not to sleep this time, but to ground himself, focusing on his breathing. He was okay. He was in a car, on a national somewhere near Daegu. He was okay.

The officer didn’t insist, and when they reached the hospital, they separated almost immediately, Daehyun swept away towards paperwork and funeral homes while Himchan climbed the stairs to the third floor, where he would find the medical examiner’s office. The doctor was a small, plump man in his fifties that ushered him into his office with an affable smile. He fussed over his desk for a bit, pushing papers this way and that, before inviting the officer to sit and ask about the purpose of his visit. His pleasant face lit up at the only mention of Jung Kyuseok.

“Yes! I performed the autopsy yesterday. So you’re here about the irregularities, I presume.”

Officer Kim perked up at that, leaning over in his seat.

“Which irregularities?”

“You haven’t read the report?”

“We haven’t received any report.”

“Strange. I sent a copy as soon as it was done. Well, anyway, you’re here now.”

The doctor made himself more comfortable, leaning back against the large backrest of his leather office chair.

“The thing that bothers me is that the police report states the body was found tucked in bed.”

“Well, that’s what happened.”

The doctor chewed on his bottom lip, before leaning over, resting his clasped hands on the desk. There was a shift in the atmosphere, Himchan could feel it, brought about by the doctor’s suddenly preoccupied expression and Himchan’s own imagination, his eyes stuck to the long fingers resting atop the desk, that spent their time swimming in human meat.

“While the damage to the heart is consistent with a myocardial infarction, which I judged to be the cause of death, the state of decay is… Well, to put it simply, it’s consistent with that of a drowning victim. Everything indicates the body has been underwater for some time.”

“He drowned?”

“Well… there was indeed water in the lungs, but not enough to be the cause of death. In drowning victims, the lungs basically turn into sponges, but in this case…”

“Fresh water?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a river near his house, but… Nothing indicated that the body had been moved. You say he would have had to stay underwater?”

“For at least 72 hours, yes.”

“And then someone would have gotten it out of the river, and tucked it into bed?”

The doctor spread his hands in an appeasing gesture, and the smile was back on his face.

“All signs point to a natural death, due to cardiac arrest. No signs of trauma anywhere.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Hence the irregularities.”

“Can I have a copy of the report?”

“Of course.”

The doctor turned to the drawer chest behind him, and after a little fuss, took out a copy of Jung Kyuseok’s autopsy report, that he handed over.

“Please, I would deeply appreciate to be informed of any development on this case. It is very peculiar.”

Himchan nodded, said his thanks to the doctor, and left the hospital in a dazed. He was leaning against the patrol car, report in hand, when Daehyun joined him. He eyed the report with a questioning look, and Himchan shifted, uncomfortable, before recounting his conversation with the doctor. At the end of his story, Daehyun was staring blankly at the junipers gently swaying on the edge of the hospital’s parking lot. The officer glanced at him, before following his gaze to the greenish leaves brushing the front of the patrol car.

“Are you all right?”

Daehyun took a while before responding, brushing a hand over his face before forcing his lips into a small smile.

“Yes. It’s okay. It’s just… It’s strange, isn’t it?”

Himchan could only agree.

“I need to consult with my colleague when we get back. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

Daehyun had another one of his quiet nods, his eyes not leaving the junipers. It was the first time in years that he dreamt of water, of drowning. He slid in the passenger sit with an uneasy feeling nagging at him. 

 

* * *

 

When they got back to the station after a silent ride, the afternoon was already nearing its end, and the sun would be soon to dip behind the mountain. The air was crisp when Daehyun stepped out of the car, chillier than when they had left, and he couldn’t suppress a shiver.

“Where are you staying?”

Daehyun lifted his head, looking at the officer over the car’s roof.

“I thought I would stay at my grandpa’s.”

Shadows danced across Himchan’s face as he furrowed his brow, looking far from enthusiastic at the idea.

“It’s quite a hike to get up there. And it’s almost night already.”

Daehyun shrugged. He didn’t mind, and said as much to the officer, who just unlocked his car again.

“Get in. I’ll at least drop you off at the trail.”

Daehyun didn’t protest, just slid back in the passenger sit, hands resting on his knees. It was a short ride, that was spent in complete silence, as the officer worriedly looked over at the setting sun. Himchan parked the car right at the start of the trail, the car raising a small cloud of dust just as he stopped the ignition. Daehyun got out right away, thanking him, and Himchan stayed sited, hands on the wheel, as the man got his bags out of the trunk. At the last minute, he rolled down his window and called out at Daehyun, who turned to him.

“Don’t touch the bedroom. We’ll… I want to take a look in there.”

Daehyun nodded, and turned to the remnants of the sign pointing the way to the property. It had since long fallen victim to the elements, and no one had bothered to replace it. Daehyun stood in front, waving at Himchan, who waited for him to step on the trail. He watched until his back gradually disappeared, swallowed by the overhanging trees, and only then started up the car to drive back to the village. Daehyun stopped on the trail, listening to the sound of the engine gradually fade out. It was just him now, and a strange feeling settled in his stomach. He adjusted his heavy backpack, his camera bag hanging low on his hip, and looked ahead at the darkening path.

The afternoon was luging to an end and the last rays of a pale light barely made it through the languid trees overhead. Fallen leaves were crunching underfoot, until he made it halfway up, where the sparse forest grew thicker. Up here, no light was reaching the soil to dry the carpet of rotten leaves, which emanated a heavy, earthy smell of humidity and decay. Daehyun’s feet were sinking into the soft soil and his mouth tightened in a thin line; he was feeling uneasy despite himself, the sensation deeply unpleasant. It was too dark, too chilly to make the ascend even slightly agreeable, and a thin film of humidity was starting to cloak his skin where it was uncovered.

He swallowed hard, a sour taste in his mouth. He couldn’t shake the sensation of being in a water bowl, and the words of the medical examiner came back to him in a whisper. _The state of decay_ _… he has been underwater for some time_. Daehyun had seen what a drown body looked like. Waxy and bloated, pruny skin tainted green and purple, floating on the decaying flesh like an ill-fitting glove. He felt a wave of nausea come over him and had to stop in the middle of the path, eyes closed, taking deep breaths of damp air. A corpse was floating behind his eyelids and he snapped them open, lurching forward, almost running, until he arrived at a fork in the trail. The path ahead led deeper into the mountain, while a crooked wooden post pointed towards the bee farm. He heaved a sigh of relief, his brief panic already forgotten.

It was almost night when he reached the end of the trail, finally emerging from the forest onto open lands, where the air seemed purer. There was a collapsed fence, meant to keep out intruders that never came. The rusty metal gate was still standing alone, and Daehyun stuck his foot in a puddle while side-stepping it; during the colder seasons it was never warm enough to allow the soil to dry before the next rains. He hobbled towards the house, cursing under his breath. The house hadn’t aged well. The outside walls were obviously eaten by humidity and the inside would most likely not fare any better. He hoped the boiler was still working, not looking forward to freezing for days.

Surprisingly, the door opened without much struggle, and once he managed to find the light switch, the interior of the house appeared clean and tidy. The entryway led to a sufficiently large open space that had been modernized with a small corner kitchen, and a western-styled dining area that could comfortably sit four people. There was a cozy sofa pushed in a corner, with an old cathodic television resting on a wooden cabinet nestled against the opposing wall. Daehyun dropped his backpack in a corner and checked the water was running fine before immediately setting on finding the boiler room. The house was cold, but not as humid as he had expected.

The climb had left him with a strange impression and all he wanted to do was take a shower, shed the sheen of gross humidity he felt upon his skin and in his hair, as if he had been rolling in the fallen leaves instead of stepping over them. Thankfully, the room was easy to find, tucked away under the stairs leading to the second story of the house. It was an old gas boiler and there was a loud clunk when Daehyun opened the valve. He hadn’t realized how sweaty his palms were until he mechanically whipped them on his pants. He had half-expected the old thing to blow up in his face.

As the warm water rushed into the _ondol_ pipes, the house seemed to be stirring to life. There was creaks and clunks, various noises he couldn’t identify. He waited in the living room until the floor heated up under his bare feet.

 

* * *

 

Himchan made it back to the station in time to catch Junhong, his tall frame fitting uneasily behind his tiny desk. The officer made a bee-line for him, cursing when he hit his hip on Ms. Hwan’s desk and subsequently ignoring her annoyed remark. Junhong was watching him with a curious expression, pen hovering over the report he was filling out.

“What is it, sunbaenim?”

“Jung Kyuseok.”

“Yes? Last I heard he was still very dead.”

“The coroner said he might have drown.”

“What?”

Junhong put down his pen, and listened in disbelief as his superior grabbed a nearby chair to sit down in while recounting the events of the day.

“Did he look drowned? When you found him?”

Junhong shook his head, reclining in his seat.

“I don’t know what drowning victims are supposed to look like. It was my first corpse. He looked like a pretty normal corpse to me. He was tucked into bed. There were no signs of someone else being there. No signs of forced entry. It’s all in my report. How could he drown and then go back to bed? And he said it was most likely a natural death?”

Himchan nodded, leaned a bit in his chair.

“It doesn’t make any sense. We will have to go back there. Just to check. His grandson is staying at the house, but he’ll stay away from the bedroom.”

“Go back there?”

Junhong didn’t seem that enthused by the idea, brows furrowed and voice pinched.

“What is it?”

“I don’t… really want to go back there.”

“Why not?”

 

Junhong had known what he would find as soon as he had stepped into the house. If he was honest with himself, as soon as he had entered the forest would be more accurate. The whole climb, he had heard no sounds of living things, just the sounds of the wind in the trees, and of dead leaves crunching under his feet. Nothing could live here, it was obvious. There was something foul, something corrupted in the air. Still, he had forced himself to make the climb to the house, had pushed the door open, and he had been sure then, that all he would find was death.

He had stepped lightly, as if there was something there that shouldn’t be awaken. It was dark inside, the curtains pulled over the windows. As he had walked further into the house, the darkness had seemed to swell around him, snooping at his feet like a curious animal. Junhong had stopped, closing his eyes, waiting it out. Nothing had happened, and he had hurriedly climbed the few stairs to the second story. The smell had grabbed him by the throat then, and a wave of nausea had hit him, almost making him buckle. But he had continued down the corridor, to the last room on the left. He had known the body would be in there.

And it was, tucked into bed as a child would be, covers neatly pulled up under his chin. The face had a waxy aspect to it, a greenish tint spreading down the neck. The smell had been almost unbearable and Junhong had stayed at the door, not moving inside the room. But he had felt it. The air here was different. Under the smell of decay, there was something else, something earthy and damp. Something that didn’t belong.

 

“I just… Is he staying there alone?”

“Well, yeah. And don’t change the subject.”

“There was something rotten in this house.”

“Yeah, a corpse. They took it out, though.”

“Hyung, I’m serious. There was something weird.”

“Weird like a drowning victim found nicely tucked into bed?”

Junhong just stared in anxious silence, wide-eyed, and somewhere, it felt like someone was walking over his grave.

 

 

 

 


	2. A Whole Lot of Nothings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Himchan snoops around, Junhong feels something, Ms. Hwan says something, and Daehyun needs to sorts through a lot.  
> Then the author goes and buys How Not To Suck at Summaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow update is slow, my bad.

Daehyun opened his eyes at 5:45, the remnant of a nightmare still clinging to his drowsy mind. The fluorescent numbers on his digital alarm clock were the only light in the darkened room. He had elected to sleep on the couch, in the sleeping bag he had stuffed in his backpack as an afterthought. He stared at the ceiling, waiting for his eyes to get accustomed to the darkness, but it only seemed to grow darker still. It was too warm in the bag, he could feel sweat on his back and thighs, but somehow, he was incapable of moving a limb out from under the covers. He was feeling inexplicably apprehensive, a growing weight on his chest making it difficult to breath. He closed his eyes, opened them again, his sight falling on the staircase, which shape he could barely make out in the darkness. He chose a spot and stared at it, unblinking, trying to regulate his breathing, trying to quell the childish fear of the dark he could feel growing at the back of his mind.

He was staring for too long, and the staircase seemed to be losing of its reality, its edges blurring as if it was melting, ate away by the shadows, until it was just a black hole seemingly oozing darkness into the room. He shivered, and the room seemed to shiver with him. And then, he was absolutely certain that the deep darkness on the stairs was staring back at him. He was perfectly still, as if moving just an inch would spur the shadows into devouring him, and the sweat on his back turned cold. He waited for a long time, unmoving, eyes strained on shapes darker than black. He heard it before he felt it, a sound like water trickling down a wall, and then the humidity he felt against his skin wasn’t sweat anymore. Water was engulfing him, dragging him under, and his heavy limbs were useless. He tried to scream, but water bubbled out of his mouth, too, and he felt as if he was water himself, his body dissolving in a cold stream. He started choking.

When he opened his eyes again, there was pounding at his door.

* * *

 

The climb brought Junhong the exact same feelings as it had the first time. The only thing that changed was the sounds of officer Kim in front of him, complaining about the humidity, about the heaviness of the air, about how gross the rotten carpet of fallen leaves felt under his feet. It did a lot to dissipate the anxiety that had eaten at Junhong all morning, when the thought of going back to the house on top of this cursed mountain had made his throat dry and his hands clammy.

Remnants of the morning mist clung to the trees like the shrouds of the dead and Junhong strode closer to Himchan, who had switched to outwardly complaining about everything and anything to grumbling under his breath. Junhong didn’t remind him that this was his idea, that no one would bat an eyelash if they just closed the case, that it wasn’t possible to both die from drowning and cardiac arrest anyway. As they went higher his nervousness grew, and when the trail forked, when the house finally appeared at the edge of the forest, his stomach felt full of stones.

Himchan strode to the front door, grumbling again when he stepped in a puddle, while Junhong lingered. Here, too, the silence was unnerving. He could see the abandoned bee hives spreading to one side of the house, closer to the drop down the gorge than to the old building. The bees had left long ago, as every other animal seemed to have done. Junhong gave one last look at the crumbling hives before joining Himchan, that had been unsuccessfully pounding on the door for the past five minutes. They shared a look, Himchan dropping his hand at his side.

“Maybe he just… Left for a walk.”

Himchan looked pointedly at him, then at the rest of the yard, as if to say, _who would, this place is terrible_. Junhong bit his bottom lip, the stones shifting in his stomach. He knew then that they were both thinking the same thing, that maybe there was someone else with lungs full of water in that house. Himchan turned from his subordinate and started pounding on the door again, calling out to the occupant. Soon they heard it, a crash followed by a shuffling sound, and the door opened, just a crack, then fully when the occupant spotted the uniforms. Seeing Daehyun’s face rumpled by sleep suddenly made their previous fear seem ridiculous.  

“Yes? Sorry, I was… sleeping.”

His voice had slightly cracked on the last word, as he had looked back inside the house. Himchan and Junhong exchanged an uneasy glance, before the former cleared his throat, bringing Daehyun’s attention back to him. There was no spark of recognition in those big eyes still full of sleep, and Himchan felt compelled to introduce himself again.

“I’m officer Kim Himchan. We met yesterday? I came to inspect the house, if that’s okay.”         

Daehyun perked up as he spoke, a thin smile curving his lips.

“Oh, yes, of course. I remember. Sorry.”

“You slept okay?”

There was an inquisitive look on Himchan’s face, his brow furrowed, and behind him Junhong was equally peering into Daehyun’s face as if he knew something the others did not.

“Yes, I just… Strange dreams.”

He made a vague gesture with his hand and Himchan features smoothed, as if he understood perfectly what he meant. The other, though, just darkened even more, and Daehyun felt uneasy under his stare.

“This is officer Choi Junhong, he’ll be assisting me today. He’s the one who found Mr. Jung.”

Junhong bowed, and Daehyun bowed back, shuffling aside to let the two of them in the house. Himchan strode past him, kicking off his shoes before purposely heading towards the stairs. Junhong lingered, taking his time to arrange his shoes and those of his superior while Daehyun was closing the door behind him.

“Those dreams…”

His back was turned, still bending as he fussed over the shoes. Daehyun stared at the back of his neck.

“…what were they?”

His voice was quiet, and Daehyun swallowed uneasily, stealing a glance towards the couch where his sleeping bag rested haphazardly.

“Does it matter?”

Junhong straightened then, turning to smile at him.

“I’m not sure yet.”

They stared at each other silently, Junhong studying the smaller man as if he was under a microscope. Daehyun shifted uneasily under his stare and slipped past him, going towards the staircase, where Himchan had already disappeared. Junhong shook himself and followed, trying to push past the uneasy feeling that was blooming in his chest.

The steep staircase he remembered, as well as the small corridor that led to the bedrooms. Himchan was in front of the last door on the left, staring back at him expectantly as if he was wary of going in alone.  Junhong smiled at him, passed by Daehyun that seemed reluctant to go any further.

But as soon as he stepped into the corridor, something changed. The air felt different. Heavier. Warmer, too, and soon he was sweating. Walking ahead felt like pushing against a wall of molasses. He could see the door to the room, at the end of the small corridor, maybe four meters away from him. He could see Himchan staring at him, brows furrowed, as if sensing something was wrong. Junhong already knew he wouldn’t reach him.

His feet stuck to the floor, and it was like walking in a dream, when no distance is travelled no matter how fast you go. He still forged ahead, and that was when the light disappeared. It was the middle of the matinee, yet he was standing in absolute darkness. He could feel the wooden floor under his feet, if he was to outstretch his arms he would be touching the walls on either side of him. But he couldn’t see anything. And the air grew heavier still, almost unbreathable.

Something was there with him. Something darker than black, a shadow that made the darkness pulse and slither around him. But it was not fear that he felt. The thing infused his mind with unbearable sadness, and he felt tears welling in his eyes.

“Junhong, you okay?”

The darkness parted suddenly as he felt a touch on his shoulders, and Himchan’s worried face appeared before him. The air was breathable again, and he faltered a little under the officer’s hands. He could see Daehyun’s worried face behind Himchan’s shoulder, but there was something else in his eyes, too. Curiosity. Understanding.

“Yeah, I just… I don’t know. I felt faint.”

“You want to go sit down? I can look in there myself.”

“No, it’s okay. It passed.”

Himchan didn’t look convinced, peering into his face as if looking for any trace of the lie Junhong was feeding him. He found nothing, and relented with a sigh.

“Okay, but if you feel weird again, just go sit down.”

Junhong nodded, and Himchan let his hands fall back to his side, giving him one last appraising look before turning towards the room again. Junhong followed, but Daehyun stayed unmoved near the staircase.

“I will just… I’ll just wait for you downstairs if that’s okay.”

He looked small and unnerved, fidgeting there on the edge of the staircase. Junhong just nodded, Himchan already disappearing into the bedroom.

“Of course.”

Daehyun gave a wry smile and took off down the stairs. Junhong shrugged and followed his superior inside.

 

The room was just a room. The mattress had been taken away, and the window was still wide open, to placate the smell of decay. They weren’t sure what they were looking for. All traces of foul play that could have been found had probably already been erased when Junhong had first entered, and then when the corpse had been taken out. Junhong stayed near the door, scanning the room, while Himchan started to snoop around, opening and closing cabinets, desk drawers, peeking inside the wardrobe.

“What are we even looking for?”

Himchan’s voice came muffled from inside the closet.

“I don’t know. Something out of place. Ah ha!”

Junhong jumped at his superior’s sudden outburst and watched as Himchan triumphantly turned back from the wardrobe, a small metal case in his arms. It looked old.

“Are you sure you should just be snooping around some dead person’s belongings?”

“A hundred percent.”

The officer set it upon the desk and tried to open the latch. It clicked, the case wasn’t closed. He took a breath, and opened the lid in a swift move.

“Oh. It’s just old pictures.”

Junhong rolled his eyes and stepped near his superior, peaking inside the case.

“What were you expecting? A mummified hand?”

“Why do you always go for the creepiest stuff?”

Junhong shrugged, reaching at the pile of pictures haphazardly thrown inside.

“Is that Mr. Jung when he was young?”

Himchan lifted the picture from Junhong’s fingers. A young man was standing near a river, looking straight at the camera.

“I think it’s his son. They really look alike.”

“With Jung Daehyun?”

Himchan nodded. Same eyes. Same full lips. Daehyun was smoother, somehow. The face staring back at them from the picture had hard edges and a harsh stare.

“He doesn’t look super happy.”

Himchan turned the picture around. _Dawoon, 1983._

“Yeah, that’s Daehyun’s dad alright.”

He put the picture back on the pile and closed the case with a sigh, leaving it on the desk.

“I don’t know what I was expecting.”

Junhong knocked his shoulder with his, forcing a smile on his face.

“It’s okay. Should we go talk to the grandson?”

“Yeah, probably.”

They left the room, Junhong giving one last look before he closed the door. The metal case resting on the desk caught his eyes, and he stared a little. It felt strangely out of place, somehow looking too real for the washed-off surroundings. Junhong shrugged and closed the door.

 

They found Daehyun downstairs, sitting on the sofa. He had tidied up the sleeping bag, folded neatly in a pile next to him. Himchan dragged a chair from the dining table to sit opposite him, while gesturing to Junhong to take the empty space on Daehyun’s right. They sat down.

“We didn’t find anything.”

Daehyun nodded, as if he had been expecting this result.

“Well, we found pictures. I left the case on the desk, if you’d want to take a look at it.”

This slow nod again, and Himchan’s eyes flickered to Junhong, who looked at him helplessly.

“Could you… tell us anything about Mr. Jung?”

Daehyun shrugged, finally lifting his eyes to look at Himchan.

“Not really. We only visited once. I didn’t know him well and my dad never talked about him. He never really talked about this place either. We lived far.”

“Could we maybe contact him?”

Daehyun shook his head negatively.

“My dad… drowned. When I was a kid.”

A chill descended on them at his words. Himchan looked at Junhong, who was staring back at him with wide eyes. _The body has been underwater for some time_ _… There was indeed water in the lungs_.

“I’m… sorry for your loss.”

A tired smile appeared on Daehyun’s lips and he bowed slightly in thanks.

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

“I guess… Well, if anything comes up. You have my number.”

Daehyun nodded, and they all stood at the same time. Himchan was feeling uneasy, as if he was standing on the verge of a precipice he couldn’t quite see. He made hasty goodbyes, followed by Junhong, and they left quickly.

 

The descent was made in silence. They sat for a while in the patrol car they had parked at the beginning of the trail, until Himchan finally put the key in the ignition. He didn’t turn it on, though, falling back in his seat with a soft thump.

“Am I the only one who finds that a bit too coincidental? It’s weird, isn’t it? Am I reading too much into it?”

Junhong stayed silent for a bit more, eyes fixated on the glove compartment in front of him, until a sigh escaped his lips.

“The son drowns and dies. The dad is found in his bed, water in his lungs. It’s hard not to read anything into it.”

“This whole place makes my skin crawl.”

“It always seems stuck in time, doesn’t it?”

Himchan turned towards his passenger, eyes drifting to the tall trees he could see through the car window. They formed a neat line, only broken by the dusty trail that went up the mountain. Crossing them always felt like crossing a border. He was suddenly not so sure where he was crossing into.

“What do you mean?”

“The light is always the same at any point in the day. It’s always silent. It feels dead.”

Himchan said nothing, staring at Junhong’s face, always looking too young for the body it was attached to. The kid had taken to continuously opening and closing the glove box in a nervous gesture. He then licked his lips, eyes flickering to the mountain.  

“Is he really safe, up there?”

Himchan stilled, his eyes leaving his subordinate to glance outside the window again. The trees were swaying gently, their trunks forming a black mass past which he couldn’t see. Himchan shivered, finally bringing his attention back on the wheel, turning the key in the ignition. The car rumbled to life, a strange, out-of-place noise in this place that seemed somehow disconnected from their reality.

“I hope so.”

* * *

 

They were both a bit too happy to be back in the familiar space of the police station, and that must have shown on their faces as Ms. Hwan shot them both a questioning look when they passed her, that they pointedly ignored. Junhong looked back, though, before sitting down at his desk, and an idea crossed his mind. He backpaddled to the secretary’s desk, offering her his most charming smile.

“Hey, Ms. Hwan.”

The secretary looked up, frowning.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, Junhong. That’s bad manners. Himchan is rubbing off on you.”

“Sorry, Ms. Hwan.”

“It’s okay. What is it?”

Junhong smiled again, leaning his tall frame against her desk.

“You’ve been living here forever, right?”

“Are you telling me that I am old?”

Over the annoyed secretary’s head, Junhong caught sight of Himchan going for the water cooler. The officer shook his head at him and Junhong shrugged.

“I’m just saying, you must know a lot about the village.”

“I only came here in 82, when I got married. I’m not that old, Junhong.”

“Did you know Mr. Jung well?”

“No one knew Mr. Jung well. Not even his family, I think.”

“What about his son?”

“I think he left about a year after I moved here. Why? Is that important?”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe.”

“His grandson looks a lot like him. I was surprised.”

“The grandpa or the son?”

“Both, now that you mentioned it.”

“Yeah. We saw pictures.”

“Is that what you both went to do? Snooping around that house?”

Junhong just smiled and Ms. Hwan narrowed her eyes at him, although the effect was a bit ruined by her thick glasses that always enlarged them, making her look a bit too much like an inquisitive frog.

“You shouldn’t let Himchan drag you with him every time he gets something stuck in that thick head of his.”

“You really don’t like him, do you, Ms. Hwan?”

She mellowed at that, awkwardly patting the hand Junhong had resting on her desk. Himchan, who was back from the water cooler, started making cut-throating gestures at him. Junhong ignored him.

“I do. I do. It’s just… He had so much potential. And now he’s wasting it all away here, not taking anything seriously.”

“Potential?”

Ms. Hwan’s hand suddenly stilled, and she got a faraway look on her face.

“You know, I just remembered something. At the time, we weren’t allowed to go up the mountain.”

Junhong shifted, all talk of his superior suddenly forgotten.

“What do you mean?”

“We couldn’t go there. It was fenced, there were patrols.”

“What was there?”

“I don’t know. Something military, probably. Times were different, then. It was just after the Gwangju incident… Everyone was on edge.”

She patted his hand affectionately again.

“You’re lucky you were born after all this. Now go tell Himchan to start working instead of gesticulating behind me as if I can’t see him.”

Junhong stifled a laugh, before looking at his superior, who made a face and shuffled back to his desk, slumping in his chair. Junhong thanked the secretary and moved toward him. The officer was glaring. Junhong smirked, took a chair and sat astride it.

“What is it this time?”

“She called it an _incident_. Even Wikipedia calls it a massacre.”

 “What you got against Wikipedia.”

“Nothing. I think it’s great. That’s not what you were supposed to focus on.”

Junhong smiled, crossed his arms on the chair’s backrest, resting his head on top.

“You guys should go to couple’s therapy.”

Himchan grabbed a ruler and softly whacked Junhong over the head, who pretended to be hurt.

“Did you at least learn something interesting, besides all that potential I’m apparently wasting.”

“I thought you heard everything.”

“I was too busy gesticulating.”

Junhong laughed again. It these moments, he looked really young, and Himchan always felt a wave of affection wash over him, tinted by the knowledge that Junhong should probably spend his youth somewhere other than in a dingy police station in the middle of nowhere.

“She said people weren’t allowed on the mountain back in the days. That there probably was some military base on it or something.”

Himchan made a thinking sound, reclining in his sit.

“Hyung, why are we doing this? Is this really helping anything? What is it even supposed to help?”

The officer shrugged, booting up the computer sitting on his desk.

“Honestly, I have no idea. I’m mostly doing this because I’m bored. And there is definitely something weird.”

He looked at Junhong then, a pensive look on his face.

“She’s right, you know. You don’t have to follow me in this if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s interesting. There is definitely something weird.”

Himchan nodded, attention drawn to his computer.

“I’ll look into that military base thing. Let’s go grab a beer after work, yeah?”

Junhong smiled, and got up from the chair, stretching. Back at his desk, he watched Himchan typing away at his keyboard, Ms. Hwan getting up to make some tea. It was slightly strange, being here. The uneasy feeling that had gripped him all the way up and down the mountain had faded. Even the remnant of the darkness suddenly engulfing him in the small corridor of the house already seemed like distant memories, or something that would have happened to someone else. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he had just dreamed it.

But then he remembered Daehyun’s scared look towards the inside of the house when he had told them he had been sleeping. His obvious reluctance at climbing the stairs. This had been real. And Junhong knew better. He reminisced of a figure curled up in the corner of his room when he was a child, of dances and songs he had had to learn, of eyes staring at him in the dark. He chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking. Maybe he could do something about the house. It had been so long, though. And he was alone.

* * *

 

 

At the house, Daehyun was sitting in the wooden chair in front of the small desk in his grandpa’s room, staring at the same picture Himchan had taken from Junhong’s grasp hours earlier. _Dawoon, 1983_. His dad. Daehyun studied the picture intently, noting his defiant expression and the obvious tension in his stance. He put the picture aside, grabbed another one from the case. A young man stood proudly, under the arm of an older one that looked exactly like him. Daehyun turned the picture around. _Kyuseok & Dawoon, 1981_. Comparing it to the first one, it was obvious that they were both of the same person. Of his dad. He got up, leaving the room to cross the corridor into the small bathroom opposite it. He stared at himself in the mirror, holding the picture next to his face. The young man was still smiling at him from his two-dimensional world, and Daehyun smiled back. They had the same features, big eyes, a plump mouth, down to the same whiskers-like dimples near his cheekbones when he smiled. The man in the picture was thinner than him, almost wiry. He hadn’t quite grown into his features yet, his young face too narrow.

Daehyun stared a long time, until his own reflection started to lose of its realness. He blinked, rubbed at his eyes. He was tired. He put the picture down on the bathroom counter, and it’s only then that he noticed the background. The two men were standing in front of a tall fence. He could make out the trees behind them, familiar, undoubtedly the same forest that stood outside the house. He could barely make out the corner of a tall building on the right side of the picture, made of concrete. A shiver ran up his spine when he spotted it, and he brought the picture closer to his eyes. There was nothing to it, though. It was just two smiling men holding each other by the shoulders, smiling, posing in front of a fenced building.

But somehow, the picture sat uneasily with Daehyun. He went back to the room, shifting through the case without taking the time to sit down, looking for other photographs where the building would appear. There was none. There wasn’t much pictures of his dad as an adult, either. On all the others he could find where _Dawoon_ was scribbled on the back in the now-familiar scrawl, he was younger. The one of him scowling near the river was the most recent, he didn’t appear anymore after 1983. He would have been twenty at the time, and that’s probably when he had moved to Gwangju, where Daehyun would be born ten years later. Daehyun wondered what had happened in the two years between the two pictures for this man’s expression to change so drastically.  

He closed the metal case, holding on to the two pictures he had found. _That_ _’s your dad_ , he told himself. _That_ _’s what you look like, too._ He put them in his back pocket, closed his eyes. The air was damp, but for one, it smelled of nothing. A slight breeze made the curtains flutter, and he could feel it against his neck. It had been a long time, since he hadn’t allowed himself to be sad, about his dad’s death, about his brother’s, about his mother slowly fading. About himself, too. He sat down, pillowed his head on his arms crossed atop the desk, and let long delayed sobs rack his body.

 

 


End file.
